


A Place Called Home

by singingwithoutwords



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alpha!Bucky, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Shifters, M/M, babies ever after, heat - Freeform, omega!Tony
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-06
Updated: 2017-01-06
Packaged: 2018-09-15 04:56:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9219785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/singingwithoutwords/pseuds/singingwithoutwords





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Zola9612](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zola9612/gifts).



The sun was setting. Dusk settled over the mountain as sharp-edged orange shadows that softened and faded into violets and blues, and Bucky was hungry. There was precious little prey in these mountains, in the deep of winter, and the rare villages guarded more than just their livestock against predators like Bucky. It had been nearly two weeks since he’d last eaten, and he was beginning to think the traps and hunters were worth braving for the sake of even the smallest kill.

He told himself not to be ungrateful. He of all people knew it could be far worse. He could be back with Hydra, with their control spells and their terrible missions. Even starvation was preferable, now that he was no longer ensorcelled into obedience. He had only to remember what they’d done to him and made him do to make the ache of hunger seem far less urgent.

He would have preferred to hunt now, in the twilight where his senses were keenest, but he didn’t dare. Not until he was sure the last of the hunters were gone or huddled around easily scented campfires. He wouldn’t be  _ safe  _ then, but he’d be  _ safer _ , and he would settle for that.

It felt like lifetimes before night finally fell, swathing the forest outside his den in black and eerie blue-greys. He continued to wait as long as he could stand before slinking out into the snow. He kept low to the ground, moving slowly as much from weakness as caution. He  _ had _ to make a kill tonight. He wouldn’t last much longer, otherwise.

* * *

 

Tony Stark was a genius, he learned quick, and he had good instincts. While the genius thing was really just a bonus in his line of work, the other two were essential: anyone who went up against the kind of beasts Tony tracked without adaptability and honed instinct was as good as dead.

He already knew more than most about the particular species he was tracking right now, an enormous three-legged snow leopard where none should be, not as easily scared off as it should be. It had first been spotted about two months ago preying on a flock of mountain sheep in broad daylight. It had killed several sheep and goats, one herd dog, and a number of wild animals that the locals considered “theirs”, as if anyone could lay claim to  _ wild animals _ . Gods save him from idiots.

Still, given that the leopard was handicapped, starving, and in unfamiliar territory, it was only a matter of time before someone got hurt, and it was Tony’s job to prevent that.

Which was why he was out in the forest after dark, freezing his ass off, with no fire or equipment besides what he could easily carry himself. He had to find it before someone got killed.

* * *

 

Bucky encountered no sign of hunters as he made his way down the mountain, but he encountered no sign of prey, either. Pickings were slim enough in winter at the best of times, and this winter seemed to be harder than most. Though that could just be because he was actually living out in the weather rather than locked in a too-small cage in the heart of a too-warm stronghold waiting to be forced on another kill.

The icy wind cut across Bucky’s muzzle, carrying the scent of snow and, faintly, deer. He turned, heading toward the scent. The deer were nocturnal, but they were small, too, and if he could just catch one alone…

* * *

 

There were signs of the leopard everywhere, for someone who knew what they were doing. Tony found its den fairly easily, with traces of warmth still lingering on the rock. It must be waiting until full dark to avoid hunters like himself- smart of it. A bit too smart for your average big cat.

Tony shifted his bag, making sure his knife and gun were both in easy reach before he rose cautiously, inhaling deeply.

The wind smelled mostly of winter, but he thought he caught something else, something warm and musky threaded through the cold. Deer. His quarry would probably be heading toward them, putting it upwind of him. Good.

* * *

 

Bucky couldn’t say what, exactly, alerted him to the fact he was being followed. The wind was in his face, so it wasn’t a scent, and there was no noise or movement behind or to either side. Maybe it was just instinct. Whatever it was, he trusted it.

He altered his course slightly, toward more jagged terrain. He could hopefully lose whoever or whatever was behind him among the twisted trails and ravines and sparse trees. He’d been on this mountain long enough to know all its little pockets and pathways and places to hide; if an animal or human was following him, he felt sure he could shake them.

If whatever was behind him was neither, he was in more trouble than he liked to think about.

He found the first of the narrow trails and dove into it. It was barely wide enough for him - he wouldn’t have fit at all if he weren’t half-starved - and required a painful degree of flexibility to navigate for the first fifteen feet or so before it widened somewhat, branching three ways. Bucky chose the leftmost branch, keeping his head low as the trail became a tunnel, dipping down into the mountainside and branching in two, then in two again, turning so sharply than anything without Bucky’s heightened senses would thick it simply ended, before emerging once more into the night among trees.

It cost him more energy than it should have to leap from the ground to the low rock shelf that skirted the lower tree branches and led past a dense thicket to yet more snow and rock and tree, where he paused to scent the air. The wind had died to a fitful breeze for the moment, and it told him nothing, so he kept moving.

* * *

 

It was obvious Tony’s quarry was on to him the moment it seemingly vanished into the ground. Tony didn’t bother following it; he was the wrong shape entirely to navigate the maze of makeshift passages, and it took all of two minutes to find where it curved underground. If there was one place he didn’t want to meet a desperate predator, it was in a cramped tunnel or cave that it obviously knew better than him.

He shed his pack, tucking it behind a dead bush and dusting it with snow, then took a deep breath and set off along the mountain face, searching for the tunnel exit, assuming there was one to find.

It took half an hour of miserable trudging, but Tony did find the exit, and fresh paw prints near it in the odd twisted pattern of something on three legs. The tracks turned a tight circle, showing where the leopard had jumped to a ledge about the height of Tony’s shoulder. He debated a moment before deciding to stay firmly on the ground, setting off between the trees. The wind was still in his favor. It had died down somewhat, but it was enough.

* * *

 

Bucky used a combination of ledges and fallen trees to stay off the ground as much as possible and moved as fast as he dared, until his legs trembled with weakness and his hunger tangled in a cold ball with exhaustion in the pit of his stomach and he had no choice but to rest for a moment.

He wedged himself behind a boulder roughly three times his size, curling his tail around himself and over his muzzle to hide his breath.  It muffled his nose, making it harder to smell clearly, but not giving away his hiding place was more important at the moment.

He waited as time passed in frantic heartbeats.  Nothing moved.  He saw nothing and heard nothing, and no scent made it past his tail.  His heart began to slow as the sense of danger waned, leaving Bucky spent and hungrier than ever.  He stayed still as long as he could, just to be certain, before he slowly uncurled, dragging himself once more to his paws.  He still needed to eat, and the night was only growing shorter.

Weary and almost faint with hunger now, Bucky scented the air, hoping for some hint of prey nearby.  There were traces, all of them weak and distant.  The wind sputtered, died, rose fitfully before fading once more.

Bucky crept out of hiding, still alert for any sign he was still being followed, but nothing stood out.  He let himself relax and turn his mind once more to food, setting off toward the strongest of the prey-scents.

The wind gusted up once more, rustling through the needles of the trees and hitting Bucky full in the face with a thick scent of what Bucky could only describe as  _ not right _ , a smell of gunpowder, metal, and something unnatural that could only be the thing that had been following him.

Terror lent him new strength and energy, and he bolted.  He didn’t care where he ran, just so long as it was away from the source of that scent.  He forgot his exhaustion and hunger as he ran, dashing around and vaulting over any obstacle that presented itself.  He wasn’t thinking clearly, so intent on just getting away that he didn’t realize where he was or where he was headed until he skidded to an abrupt halt inches from a sheer vertical rock face.  He twisted around on his hindquarters, eyeing the equally sheer walls to either side before he faced the way he’d come, and the human blocking his only way out.

The human was not terribly large, as humans went, but he filled the entrance to the little pocket canyon Bucky had blundered into, trapping him.  He was a hunter, judging by the gun he carried in both hands, with the ease of someone who knew how to use it well.  The barrel was aimed at Bucky, but the hunter didn’t fire on him.  Instead he watched, eyes dark and sharp, and then he smiled.

“You’re a shifter, aren’t you.”

He knew. He knew what Bucky was, and he was going to kill him or capture him and give him back to Hydra or to someone just as bad, and there was nowhere for Bucky to run. The canyon walls were too high to jump, too steep to climb, and the hunter was too close and... lowering his gun.

Bucky’s chaotic thoughts stumbled to a halt in confusion, and he could only stare as the man let go of his weapon entirely. It fell to the snow with a muted thump, and the man stepped over it, closer to Bucky but now so much more vulnerable.

“It’s okay,” he said soothingly, still smiling. “You’re safe now. I’m not going to hurt you.”

Bucky had seen many shifts in his life, most of them forced. Forced shifts were a violent thing, a body reshaping against its will, slow and terrifying, agonizing to experience and agonizing to watch. Voluntary shifts were another matter entirely. They were a soft blurring and a swift, joyful melting of one form into another, eagerly, something euphoric and beautiful.

The hunter’s shift was voluntary, one moment a man and the next a pale golden-tan snow leopard with the same wide, wickedly intelligent brown eyes.

Where the hunter’s human form had smelled only of a faint and subtle wrongness, his shifted form smelled sharp and strong and clear, surrounding Bucky and filling his nose with a confusion of  _ shifter-leopard-omega-safe _ .

The hunter’s shifted form was on the small side, smaller probably than a mundane snow leopard, dwarfed by Bucky’s bulk. His movements were confident but not threatening as he stepped closer, purring.  His scent was strong, nearly overpowering in the sharp night air, surrounding Bucky as he came close enough to touch, ducking his head to rub the top of it along the underside of Bucky’s jaw.

Bucky went rigid, hardly daring to breathe.  It had been so long, longer than he could remember, since he’d been touched with anything like kindness or affection, that he had no idea how to respond to it.  The hunter didn’t seem to mind; he just kept nuzzling at Bucky’s jaw and neck, his scent and warmth conspiring to make Bucky relax by inches until he felt like he could simply stand there in the dark and snow forever as long as the hunter kept it up.

He didn’t want to, and it felt very much like tearing away part of himself, but Bucky hadn’t survived so long as Hydra’s thrall without learning to go against his own wishes: he pulled away.  The hunter made no move to follow, and Bucky was disappointed and relieved in equal measure.

“Why are you here?”  Bucky asked.  It was difficult to keep the anxiety and fear out of his voice, but he thought he mostly succeeded.  “What do you want?”

The hunter sat back on his haunches, cocking his head to one side.  “Looking for you,” he replied.  “The rumors sounded too much like a shifter for my peace of mind, so I came to see if you needed help.  That’s what I do- I find shifters who’ve gotten into tight spots and help them.”

The hunter seemed sincere, his entire frame alive with honesty and concern.  “Let me help you.”

“How?”

“Come home with me.  You’ll be safe there.  You’ll be warm, and well-fed, and not alone.”

Bucky mewled softly, torn.  Shifter or not, he didn’t know this man.  He didn’t know he could trust him.  But he was cold and exhausted and starving, and the promise of a home was tempting.

“No one will hurt you,” the hunter promised.  “No one will force you to do anything you don’t want.  No farmers to hunt you, and plenty of our kind to keep you company.”

Bucky mewled again and actually swayed slightly under the weight of his indecision.  The hunter was immediately beside him, supporting Bucky’s much larger bulk without complaint, a warm solidness against the bones of his shoulder and ribcage.  Surely another shifter, an  _ omega _ shifter, could be trusted.  Surely he wasn’t being a fool.

“I’m Bucky,” he said at length.

“Tony.  Nice to meet you, Bucky.  Why don’t you get comfy here- I’ll go find you some food, and then we can go.”

Bucky nodded, folding his legs under him gratefully.  Tony nuzzled him once more, then bounded off into the darkness.  Bucky closed his eyes, and woke to find Tony returned, with the remains of a deer in his jaws, looking very pleased with himself.  They ate, the bulk of the meat going to Bucky, and then set out in the haze of pre-dawn toward Tony’s home.

* * *

 

Tony had known he was cutting it close with this one.  Contrary to what Pepper and Rhodey might claim, he actually kept very careful track of his cycle, and he’d known the risks he was taking going out on a mission this deep into winter, but there was always some variance, and he’d hoped…

Well, suffice to say it was both a surprise and not a surprise at all when he woke hours before dawn feeling unseasonably warm and in desperate want of an alpha.

If he were as careful as Pepper was always warning him to be, he would have at least warned his new traveling buddy, but it had slipped his mind completely.  The pair of them had gone to sleep in a pile at the back of a shallow cave, and Bucky’s sleeping body was still a warm and welcome weight on top of him, though not in the way he wanted.

Tony chuffed to himself, wiggling his way out from under Bucky, who grunted, coming partly awake.

“Rise and shine, Bucky,” Tony said, nudging him.  “Up and at ‘em.”

Bucky growled, uncurling enough to wrap his front leg around Tony’s neck and pull him back down.  The close proximity to Tony’s scent would probably just wake him up faster, so Tony let him.

“Wakey wakey, Buckarooni,” he coaxed, pawing at Bucky’s muzzle until his eyes cracked open.  “Come on, Buckster, up.”

Bucky continued to growl and grumble, but his eyes were definitely open now, and the growls were taking on a distinctive possessive quality.

“Good morning, handsome,” Tony said, licking Bucky’s nose.  “Are you with me?”

“Yes.  Are you-?”

“Yes.  Feel up to doing anything about that?  You’re free to say no.”

Bucky rolled back on top of Tony and bit playfully at his neck, and his own scent was answer enough.

They lost two days to Tony’s heat in that little cave, but it was worth it.

* * *

 

They were a month more to Tony’s home territory.  They spent most of the trip in their shifted forms; even short one foreleg, it was faster, and leopards were much more suited to the weather than humans.  They could also hunt for themselves and sleep in whatever caves they found, meaning there was no need for provisions, so they could move that much faster.  Bucky could hardly believe Tony would go so far afield for the sake of a rumor.

They entered Tony’s territory proper along a narrow dirt path between two trees that curved toward each other, forming a natural archway.  Bucky’s skin tingled as they passed under the intertwined branches, making him shiver- wards of some sort, and strong ones.

The pathway broadened, becoming more even and level as they walked, more of a road than a path.  He could see a large house in the distance, rising at least three stories high.  It faced an open stretch of snowy grass where what Bucky assumed were shifters - some in animal form, some as humans - moved.

They crested a low hill and found their way blocked by a fox.  She was small and lithe, with flaming red fur and wicked green eyes that seemed to take in the sum of everything Bucky was in the space of a heartbeat before she turned them on Tony.

“You’re late,” she said.  “Did you get sidetracked?”  Tony swiped a paw at her in mock anger, but she danced away with an amused yip.  Tony started walking again, and she fell into step beside him.  “Did you enjoy yourself?”

“I’m going to sit on you,” Tony threatened, but he sounded just as amused as the fox.  “Are you hunting today?”

She shook her head.  “The birds are.  Rabbit stew tonight.”

Tony’s face wasn’t made to mimic human facial expressions, but he shuddered and somehow managed a look of disgust.  “Please don’t make me.”

“I think Bruce can make a case that you need more,” she allowed.  “Are you going to introduce your friend?”

“Natasha, Bucky.  Bucky, Natasha.  She’s not so bad, for a canine.”

Natasha barked contemptuously.  “Canine, he says.  I thought you were smart.”

Tony swiped at her again, and the two continued their bickering the rest of the way to the house, where they were met by another fox, this one larger but somehow daintier, and much lighter in color.

“Tony,” the new fox said, absently returning Natasha’s enthusiastic greeting, “I see you didn’t waste any time.”

Tony huffed.  “Everyone’s a critic,” he remarked to Bucky.  “Tell Bruce I’m back, and tell him to tell whoever’s cooking that I need lots of meat.  Gotta provide for the cubs.  That’s Pepper, by the way- she runs the place for me.”

Bucky nodded, feeling overwhelmed, and was grateful that neither Pepper nor Natasha followed when Tony led him off into the house and up the wide staircase, then down the hall to a room full of Tony’s scent.  It was large, furnished comfortably for man and leopard both, with grey-painted walls and a massive bed set low to the ground, covered in soft blankets and plump pillows.

Tony hopped onto the bed, batting at a couple pillows not placed to his satisfaction, then laid down, tail twitching.  Bucky joined him there, curling around him.

It was good to be home.


End file.
